


Together

by titC



Series: First Times [5]
Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-03
Updated: 2012-06-03
Packaged: 2017-11-06 17:36:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/421532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/titC/pseuds/titC
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pon farr post V'Ger: whump ensues.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Together

**Author's Note:**

> Beta: Krss, whose support, keen eye and kind words have helped me along. Thanks a lot!  
> Rating: NC-17.  
> Disclaimer: Unfortunately, Star Trek and its universe are not mine! They belong to Paramount / Viacom. No infringement intended, no money being made.  
> This story is the fifth in the First Times series.

I cradle your precious head, let you use me as your pillow, gently touch and stroke and skim my fingers over any part of you I can reach. I almost lost you. It was all going so well, until we realized it wasn't ending. Oh, it certainly was the kind of thing one wishes would go on forever, but when it actually does – I couldn't then, I didn't dare - but now I'm crying. You're sleeping, you can't see me – but I can feel the wetness in my eyes, a few tears running down into your hair.

I love your hair, it's all shiny and sleek. Like the tiny, feather-soft hairs at your crotch, but not like the curling, crisp ones on your chest. I like to tug at those, a bit. I like to ruffle your hair just because I can smooth it back after. A single hair out of place, and I think you look as though we've been making love all night long. A slight crease in your uniform, and it's as if we've been fooling around, cuddling and kissing for hours.

I can remember you at the end of the first day, naked, sprawled over the bed, parted lips swollen, eyes half-closed and glittering, skin hot and flushed, and your hair all in disarray. How beautiful you are. I don't want to ever share you with anyone. I won't ever let you go, I won't ever let you leave me again.

Now, you're peaceful at last, and I can hold you tight against me, I know you won't wake up – Bones said you should be sleeping until tomorrow at least. He didn't want to let you do that trance again, said your mind wasn't up to it after the strain of the last few days – but I'm looking after you, and you'll be fine. We'll be leaving for our new mission in a week, just as scheduled. You'll be fine.

Thank God you'll be fine.

***

It began, Jim remembered, a few weeks after the V'Ger mission. They had tried the refitted Enterprise for ten days, and then brought her back to Earth to report to Starfleet Command. They had to bury the dead, honour those listed as missing in action, make Spock's return official, and the Enterprise still needed some finishing touches. Jim Kirk wrestled his command back – he would fly his ship again, when all the curiosity around V'Ger had abated.

Bones had taken residence in Starfleet Officers' quarters, and spent his days between the Enterprise sickbay, which he was shaping to his wishes, and the Academy, where he was giving a few conferences on deep-space medicine. And Spock... Spock had agreed to stay with Jim, in the guest room – he apparently was still shy enough not to assume he would be welcome in Jim's – or maybe he needed some privacy.

 

After a few days, he began to notice strange things. Spock losing his grip on a book and letting it fall. Spock not eating when he was supposed to fatten up, as per Bones' orders. Spock isolating himself. Jim suspected, but didn't say a thing – instead, he went to greet the Vulcan Ambassador and his wife, who had just arrived to negotiate the presence of trained Vulcan telepaths on ships and research stations. That was, at least, the official reason – but, as Amanda pointed out, they also had come on Earth for their son, whom they had not seen since his departure for Gol. Sarek demonstrated, as usual, his predilection for blunt approaches.

'Why is he not with you, Kirk? Is he unwell?'

'I think he's meditating. That's what he's doing most of the time, these days.'

'Meditating.'

'Yes... I wanted to ask you something about that, by the way. Because I think... I think...' Jim faltered. How was he supposed to talk about what was taboo? How does one talk with one's father-in-law about sex with one's lover?

'You think it's pon farr.'

Well, Amanda could apparently be just as blunt as her husband.

'Er. Yes.'

'It's simple. You have sex and you meld, during two days. All in all, a good time. Fond memories.' She smirked, and Sarek's ears seemed to turn slightly greener.

'He acts as if he'd rather not think about it...'

'Should he not trust you to be there for him?'

'Of course he should trust me, Ambassador, but... I think he avoids me. He just kneels in front of his fire-pot, and he doesn't eat. As if he's not thin enough as it is.'

Sarek looked out of the large window over San Francisco bay. 'It could be that he intends to apply some of the techniques he must have learned at Gol. They have ways. But then again, he is not a Kolinahru. He may not master them enough.'

'What should I do, then? And why would he do that anyway?'

'Our son has never really gone through the Blood Fever. He fears it. Most of us do, before the first Time. He has only known its dangers and pains. Simply be there for him. You will know what to do.'

Jim tried not to think that Ambassador Sarek of Vulcan had given him tips on the proper handling of a potentially sex-crazed, stubborn, secretive Spock as the conversation turned to more political matters.

 

When he entered the guest room, he first noticed that Spock had drawn the shutters. The only light came from a few embers in the fire-pot.

When his eyes had adjusted, he saw the Vulcan kneeling in the darkest part of the room, his back to the window.

'Spock?'

He walked to the still form and squatted. Spock was breathing slowly, with rasping breaths, as if each one was fought for. Head hung forward, eyes closed and shoulders stooping – he looked utterly defeated.

He wondered then why he had been afraid he wouldn't know what to do. It seemed so obvious now, and this Spock was so different from the Spock of seven years ago – wild, raging, mad with uncontrollable pain and lust. He knelt behind him and let his hands fall gently on the taut back, dug his fingers in the knots he found there, cupped the neck, eased gently the head on his shoulder.

'See, Spock, it's all right, I'm here, it'll be good, I'm taking care of you, you'll see...'

He put his arms around Spock, reached the hands, drew circles over the palms, on the fine skin of the wrists, caressed the long fingers, kissed the nape, the earlobe – he was so unresponsive he felt the need to check his pulse.

'Come on, Spock, say something – please?'

A hand twitched. 'Jim...'

'Yes, I'm here, I'm going to make love to you, kiss you everywhere, I won't let you go, Spock, not ever again...'

He started to undo the laces that tied up the front of Spock's long tunic, slowly, pausing to stroke the fevered skin, feeling the ribs under it, the fast heartbeat, the heated groin. He cupped it carefully, ran a finger on the slit, felt it slick and quivering -

'Why didn't you say, Spock? Why didn't you ask? You should know I'll be there, always...'

Jim dipped in a fingertip, coaxed out, millimetre by millimetre, Spock's sex.

'Don't fight it... Don't fight me...'

He kissed the clenched jaw, felt himself hardening against the Vulcan's lower back. Oh, how he wanted it – how he wanted him, wanted to make love with him, wanted to touch, to hear, to see him, just - to love him. If only he would let him...

Spock moaned softly then, a thready sound, a throaty whisper of surrender to Jim's gentle, cool hands, to Jim's solid weight behind him, to his strong arms around him. He began to relax in Jim's embrace, his hands fluttering restlessly at his sides, grasping convulsively the fabric fallen to the floor.

'That's it, Spock, let go, I'm here, we're together, there – shhh, let me, let me...'

Jim's fingers gripped the slippery cock more firmly, felt the tendrils come out and wrap themselves around his hand, rubbed his own groin against Spock – and a hand settled on his face, and he was Spock, held and steadied and coming, coming, coming, and he was Jim, holding and loving and feeling Spock's sterile come cover his hand, for the first time.

 

'Jim.'

'Mmh.'

'Jim, I think we are both in need of a shower.'

'Mmh.'

'Jim, if you do not take off your clothes in the next few minutes, they will stick to your groin and will be painful to remove.'

'Mmh – what?'

 

They had tangled their limbs as much as they could in Jim's bath, languidly rubbing fingers, nibbling eartips, kissing and running soapy hands on every bit of skin available.

 

'I didn't know you could ejaculate.'

'Usually, male Vulcans do not produce sperm outside of pon farr.'

'But apparently, once you get it going, it's by buckets. I think I'm jealous.'

'The aim is, after all, to ensure reproduction. Once every seven – oh...'

 

Later, Jim kissed and licked and tasted Spock's come, and Spock tasted it in Jim's mind and on Jim's lips and on Jim's tongue. He showed no uneasiness, no shyness as in their first time, no aggressiveness as he did seven years ago, he just – he offered himself, and Jim could not resist. Maybe it was hormones? He would ask Bones... later... much later.

 

Spock, who was most of the time covered from head to toe, was lying naked on the large bed, unashamedly displaying his too-thin body. Jim was watching him, taking in the flushed cheeks, the bruised lips, the bonelessness of a well-loved Vulcan. He was leaning against the doorframe, and trying not to pounce on Spock and pin him down and ravish and devour him all over again. The moon shone through the window made his skin even paler against the dark blankets, in the half-light of the stars. But Spock was waiting... He walked closer to the bed.

'Jim, take me.'

'I - ' Oh, yes. He started to turn towards the bathroom, but a hand on his arm stopped him. 'We need - '

'Make me come.'

Well, if Spock insisted on saying naughty, dirty things, he couldn't but oblige. He couldn't but kiss him, and hold him, and let him meld and whisper harsh Vulcan words in his ear. He couldn't but gently prepare him, and grit his teeth as he tried to ignore his own desire, as he slicked himself with Vulcan come. Spock seemed strangely calm, lying on his back, arms flung wide, half-closed eyes glittering. He wouldn't budge when Jim urged him to change position, would only slightly raise his hips and let Jim guide them on his lap, sighing when a hand traced his slit.

Jim could never have imagined this, being buried in Spock, where it was tight and hot and he wasn't sure he would ever want to leave. He hardly moved, and wondered why Spock wasn't hard yet – he didn't look like someone in pain, he would only shift a bit and sigh and throw back his head on the pillow, as though he were afraid he would shatter the moment.

Jim stared at him, at this long, pale, quiescent body he knew to be strong and tough – a body he knew well, a body which had at times betrayed its owner, at times saved them both.

After a minute, or an hour, or a day, Spock raised a hand towards Jim's face, and Jim bent slightly forward to meet the fingers, and suddenly he was Spock, feeling a cock tease his genitals from the inside, feeling a hand on his crotch drawing him slowly crazy, both determined to make him hard – and he wouldn't, he wouldn't, he wanted to stay here and now forever, on the verge of ecstatic, wild, frenzied sex – but not there yet, its sweet promise on the horizon forever, before he lost his mind completely in the act. Jim's mind helped him and soothed his own – he was more familiar with the sensations, he would stay by his side always, he would – he would -

Jim gave a short cry of surprise when Spock jerked upright and grasped his head and started to move and grip him and kiss and bite and he kept pouring desire, desire in his mind, always more, never fulfilled, never satisfied, and he was on the verge of coming and Spock kept him there, on the brink, and it wasn't enough, it was too much, and there was come on his hand, and Spock kept moving, kept coming, made small, keening, frustrated sounds in his throat, and it was frightening, they would go on forever and die like that, locked together and dying of desire...

 

When he opened his eyes, he first saw the harsh, cold light of early morning coming through the window. Spock was lying by his side, an arm and a leg thrown over him. Jim tried to get up, but a hand pulled him back down on the bed and immediately, unerringly, found the meld points on his face. He couldn't move, Spock's whole body was pinning him down, Spock was entering his thoughts – and he felt only frustrated need, primitive fear, painful exhaustion, mindless drive, numbing cold. Jim tried to push Spock away, to talk to him, but he was a dead weight on him. What was wrong? He started to jerk him awake, more and more violently – until he felt Spock come back to consciousness in his mind and break the meld.

'What was that?'

Spock blinked up at Jim's face, hovering over his.

'It was... it was you, and not you. What does it mean?'

'I can... I can only surmise instinct took over...'

Jim let a hand slide down Spock's arm before taking his hand and hauling him up to go to the bathroom together.

 

Jim peered at Spock. 'You look tired.'

'I am well, Jim.'

'You still look tired. Do that again.'

'Yes, Captain.'

'Hey! Ooh...'

 

'Here, eat this.'

'I am not hungry.'

'You haven't been eating for several days, Spock. Bones will notice. And he will be angry with me for not taking proper care of you. And you know how he is when he thinks you haven't been following his orders, don't you?'

'Overbearing? Cantankerous? Insufferable?'

'You get the general idea. Drink something, at least. You're too thin anyway.'

'I hope you are not complaining.'

'You know I'm not. Fruit juice? Tea?'

'No. I want -'

Jim suddenly found himself sitting on his kitchen counter with an armful of Vulcan.

'Er... Spock?'

He got no answer, only a head buried in his neck, fingers grazing his temple, a hardness pressing against his thigh. Grinding. Slowly. He couldn't move, only feel – hot breath on his skin, slight tilt of the hips between his legs, uncontrollable fear of insanity in his mind... It went on for long, tense minutes, then Spock gasped and sank to the floor, shivering. He looked up at Jim.

'I apologize, I – I do not know... It should be lessening, not...' He sighed.

'Something's wrong, right?'

Spock nodded resignedly.

'Right. I'm calling Bones; no one knows your insides like he does.'

 

'Aren't you supposed to hide away from the world in your love nest right now? I'm busy.'

'Bones...'

'Right, tell me what's wrong. It's Spock, isn't it? You look fine.'

'I don't know... It's like it's getting worse instead of better.'

'Worse, as in more sex? Didn't know you could have too much sex, Jim.' He raised a hand. 'All right, all right, I'm coming. Just let me take some files with me first – aren't Sarek and Amanda here, too? That could help.'

'They gave me their personal emergency code, in case... just in case. Come straight in when you arrive, you're authorized. Kirk out.'

'Well,' said the doctor to the blank screen.

 

Leonard McCoy looked down at a small mountain of blankets.

'Spock?'

'Let him sleep, Bones.'

'And how am I supposed to check on him?'

'He'll soon wake up anyway.

The two men walked to the kitchen.

'It got worse very quickly. This morning, he was still mostly fine, and then – he wouldn't let me touch him, said I was too cold, and the next moment he's all over me, and he's in my mind, and it's not really him anymore... He says it should be lessening, but it isn't.'

'I think... I think we should call Sarek. Ask him to send us the medical stuff they have on pon farr. I guess Spock could crack the codes of the Vulcan Science Academy, but I can't. I'm a doctor, not a hacker!'

'Neither am I, doctor.' Spock was leaning heavily against the wall, wrapped in a thick blanket.

'Why, you green - '

'Spock? Are you feeling any better?' Jim took in the Vulcan's slightly shaky hands, the greyish cast of his skin, the sunken, greedy eyes.

'You look like hell, Spock. And that's a doctor's diagnosis. Go back to bed.'

'Come, Spock. I'll stay with you. You make the call, Bones.'

 

Jim sat on the edge of the bed, looking down at Spock's unconscious face. He'd had to call Bones. Spock had refused to meld, had stubbornly pretended he could control the pain of not melding. He'd said he was growing insane, that he didn't want to drag Jim's mind down along with his. Jim carefully wiped the tears of frustration that had fallen from the corners of Spock's eyes – that, seeing his favourite nemesis cry from physical pain, had shaken Bones. He'd left hurriedly after he'd sedated Spock, telling Jim to join him in a moment.

 

Spock's Starfleet medical files were sketchy, to say the least. Jim was glad McCoy had also recorded all he knew of Spock in his private research files, because even his own notations as CMO had been erased, but nothing seemed to help so far.

'It's weird, Jim. Everything seems to be as it should, except in intensity. Exhaustion, protein and vitamin loss, all body functions slowed down except sperm producing, compulsive need to meld. Dammit, I don't know what to do!' McCoy waved his glass under Jim's nose. 'Sarek sent some stuff about pon farr and about Spock, stuff that was never published – did you know Spock's Starfleet files had been tampered with?'

'What?'

'As it is, he would never have been accepted for deep space duty if anyone had had access to some of the data in here. Would have dismissed him as potentially unstable. Too dangerous.'

'Spock? Unstable? You're kidding.'

'Nope. Apparently, it was a political move to promote non-Humans in Starfleet – they needed someone, a figure-head, and Spock was the most promising but for his mixed nature - they lacked, and still lack, data on Vulcan-Human hybrids. So, they falsified it, and crossed their fingers.'

'And what if there had been a problem? Who knows about it?'

'Sarek, the Vulcan High council, some top-brass in Starfleet command.'

'Not Spock?'

'No, not Spock. It wouldn't sit too well with him, I guess. But it might be made public if – when I find out what's the matter. There are other, younger Vulcan hybrids now, and...' He sighed.

'Come on, Bones, no one is better suited - you have all the data, you know Spock inside out, and you're a great doctor. I trust you. We trust you.'

'Yeah. Well. Whatever you say.' He turned back to the heap of files on the desk.

 

'Why is he not in a hospital? Where is Dr McCoy? What kind of care is this?'

Jim raised bleary eyes into the Ambassador's. The arrival of Spock's parents had jolted him out of the sofa where he'd fallen into a restless sleep, and his fuzzy brain what certainly not up to dealing with Sarek. Not that Amanda appeared to be in a better mood.

'I told you, McCoy thinks he's found something and he went to the hospital to check it, and Spock is here because it's where he wants to be.'

'Can I see my son?'

'Is his mind clear enough that you think his wishes are logical?'

'Why is there no one with him right now?'

'How is it that - '

'Stop it!' Jim pondered on the wisdom of yelling at Sarek, of all people – but then again, he wasn't in the mood to bear with overbearing in-laws. 'As you should know, Spock is in the best possible hands. He wouldn't want to be in an hospital where everybody could see him like that -'

'Like what? Can't his own parents see him? His own mother?'

'Ma'am, he doesn't want to see anyone else than McCoy and me. And he is kept comatose right now anyway.'

'Why?'

'Because it's the only way to lessen the pain he's in. And it's a sure way to prevent melding.'

'Are you refusing my son what he needs from you? The choice was his own to make, but I fear it was not made wisely.' Sarek, there was no other word for it, was furiously glaring down his Vulcan nose at Jim. 'Besides, even in pon farr, no true Vulcan can force himself on his chosen. Telepathic contact forbids it. He has learnt enough at Gol that he should have full control of his abilities. Are you refusing your self? Answer me, Kirk.'

Jim's clenched jaw was now very painful. He would probably have a cramp tomorrow. 'Ambassador, it was his wish. To prevent him from entering my mind, even involuntarily. To preserve my own sanity. Now if you have come here to insult me, you have done that. The door is still where it was when you came in uninvited. Good day.'

 

Jim stalked away to Spock's bed. When he sat down, Spock's face turned towards him in his sleep, and he couldn't help reaching over to smooth out the black hair. As he had done that night in Spock's quarters, when they had kissed for the very first time – it had been sweet, he remembered, too sweet to last, but he'd always longed to touch Spock's hair before, and after that it became one of his favourite activities – run his fingers through it, play with the straight fringe, the sensible, practical, so very Spockian cut, and generally make the Vulcan look utterly dishevelled whenever possible. And Spock would let him.

Once, on shore leave, Spock had let him cut it. He'd come out of the bathroom with small scissors, given them to Jim, and sat on the bed, looking up expectantly. His bangs had reached his eyebrows by the end of their leave, and his eartips were peeking through the hair – Jim had spent their time together petting him and delighting in the softer, quieter look it gave him. And the day before they returned to the Enterprise and its brand new weapon systems, Spock had trusted him enough to cut his hair and not mess it up. He didn't, of course – it was too important, and he knew his Vulcan enough to manage the proper, logical, geometric lines of the cut. Even if he privately preferred the longer hair. They were Starfleet - so he cut it.

 

Spock's parents had not left, he could hear them still as he kneaded Spock's palm.

'Maybe we shouldn't ever have had a son, Sarek. Maybe we shouldn't even have married.'

'My wife, you are letting your emotions get the better of your mind.'

'I am Human.'

'I know. And our union was logical.'

There was a silence then, and Jim saw them in his mind's eye, the Vulcan Ambassador and his very Human wife – they were such an odd couple, and yet so inseparable.

'Jim! Jim, I think I've got it! Oh, er, Ma'am, Ambassador.'

Jim walked back to the sitting room, where McCoy was engaged in a delicate balancing act combining PADDs, a doctor's paraphernalia and giving a proper salute to Sarek and Amanda.

'Bones, you've found something?'

'I think so. I found Spock lacked a hormone which controls several body functions. He usually compensates most of it with human hormones - it shouldn't work, but then with him I'm not surprised. Anyway, the problem is with two main, specifically Vulcan, things: the first the compulsion to meld, which is related to the management of emotions in the brain – and that he manages with sheer hard-headedness.'

'He's stubborn, you mean.' Jim smiled. McCoy's bouncy reappearance was certainly the sign that everything would be well, wasn't it?

'Yeah. Well, its other function is the regulation of pon farr. When the, ah, requirements are met, it is released in that green blood of – er, in the body,' he added hastily at Sarek's haughty eyebrow, 'and reduces the effects of pon farr. He doesn't have it, so it builds up and up. Desire, compulsion to meld, exhaustion, reduction of body functions and increase in sperm production... it won't stop until the end. It happens to other Vulcans, about 1 in 100 000, but it is diagnosed much earlier. He didn't have the usual symptoms.'

'But should it not have been made evident seven years ago? Were you not his physician already?'

'Well, Ambassador, I was there seven years ago, and from what I saw I think the shock of what happened did help. Besides, this time around he's got all the tension of the first pon farr to deal with, too.'

'But can you do something, now?'

'Yes, I just have to administer a few shots of the proper regulating hormone – not too much or it would upset the balance of his system, and in a version slightly altered from the full-blooded one, but it's just fine-tuning now.' He grinned, the worst was clearly over. And then -

'Why are you not already there?'

'Can we go to him now?'

'Should you not also ask for the advice of a Vulcan healer?'

They were relentless, really.

Jim rose. 'Look, Bones, you go and give him that shot.' The doctor left, and he turned towards Sarek and Amanda. 'I'd rather you didn't see Spock before he says he wants to see you. Can't you understand that?'

'Are you implying he does not wish to?'

'No.'

Amanda walked to the window. 'Why did he choose Gol? And why did he come back? How is he now? We just need to know. He came in one day, just said he was going to Gol, and left. What happened? And... and what will happen now?'

'Come back when he's better. He'll tell you if he wants to. Don't ask me.'

'But was it because of you, Kirk?' Sarek took a step towards the admiral. 'Is he in good hands now? Can we leave him in your care?' The Vulcan was shorter than his son, but he made up in presence and sheer charisma what he lacked in bulk. And, of course, he could ruin both Jim's career and his love life with a frown, which is why Jim felt quite relieved when Bones distracted Sarek's focus as he came back into the sitting room.

'He's better now, he should sleep until tomorrow. Just stay close, and call me if there's anything, I've got to go back to my job now, I've missed enough as it is. Can I give you a lift, Ambassador?'

McCoy and Sarek glared at each other, until Amanda raised two fingers and smiled at her husband. He mellowed instantly, which had Jim and the doctor trying not to grin too overtly.

'We will come back when Spock is better. We accept your offer, doctor.'

 

Their departure left Jim free to shower and lie down beside Spock. He couldn't have told why, but he felt it was the right thing to do, being able to touch and stay at his Vulcan's side; and soon, from sleeping side by side, they ended up intertwined in mind and body.

***

It's morning again, I can see the light filtering through the shades. You're stirring against me. You're warm. You're alive. I feel you burrowing your head in my neck, I think you're trying to pretend you're still asleep. Well, I can play that game too – I innocently nudge a leg up between yours, tighten my arms a bit.

 

'Jim...' I never heard your voice sound quite so deep and rough before.

'Spock? How are you?'

'Much improved.'

'Good.'

'Though pon farr is not completely over.'

'Even better.'

 

I turn and kiss you. You smell stronger, taste stronger – I never liked it in Human partners, that morning kiss - but I can't get enough of your own alien smell and taste. It's just... more Spock. I know, yes, I feel you think the same of me. I think we're in some sort of telepathic contact, and I sense you agree. That's fine.

 

I climb on top of you, watch your face – thinner, but a smile lingers around, never completely there and just for me. Maybe if I kiss you more you will smile longer? You raise a hand to my temple, and our connection suddenly deepens. You want me again, I know. I nibble down your jaw, your neck, I make you wriggle when I reach your nipples. You've got less hair there than you used to – I guess it only makes it more practical for me, then. I don't mind it. It's you. I look up.

 

'Do you know, now? Do you know why?'

'Yes.'

'Can you tell me?'

'I could give you many reasons.' One of your hands is on the small of my back. I want it lower. 'But the only true one, is because it is you.' The other hand is pulling me down to your lips. I surrender.

 

When Bones let you out of Sickbay after his last check once V'Ger was gone on its way, I found you in front of the door to my quarters. You seemed to waver, to be unsure, but I just opened the door and let you come in.

'You came back,' I said.

'V'Ger called to me. You called me', you answered.

And that was it. V'Ger and I. Logic and emotion.

'Why me?'

'I... I do not know. But Jim...'

One moment you were standing in front of me, the next we were just clinging to each other. We spent the night entangled on my bed, touching lightly and whispering. You told me you did not want to try a meld before having been cleared by a trained telepath, because of your experience with V'Ger. You feared for me. But Bones had said you were all right, and I trust him, and I trust you. You yielded to me, but it was your choice and desire too – and we fell asleep and shared our dreams.

Together.

 

Now, we share our bodies too – I feel what it is to be you, you know what it is to be me. You demand that I make love to you again to erase the fear and desperation of the first time - and so I fumble in my bedstand for something I haven't used in far too long. I know you want it, know you want me. I want it, I want you too. I start entering you slowly, with only one finger – you have such good control over your body, it is not painful, and you adapt quickly to another. I leave your mouth for your neck, your chest, your navel, and then I tongue your slit.

 

I can feel everything you feel, I can feel your cock pushing out of its warm, moist nest into another, alien one – into my mouth. You squirm. You want more. I want more. I give you more, and I squirm with you.

 

'Jim, please....'

My fingers leave you, my mouth leaves you.

'Oh, please...'

I know, Spock, I know. I'm here.

 

I nudge you to turn you on your side and this time you comply. I lie down behind you, and I slowly, slowly enter. I bury my head in the short hair in your nape and breathe in. Breathe home.

'Don't ever leave me again.'

One of your hands joins mine on your stomach. I take them both down to wrap around your cock, and the tendrils join in and twine. They seem determined to prevent us from moving away. This is fine, it cannot happen anyway. Not anymore.

We hardly move at all, but feeling the smallest thing in each other is enough. I tighten my hold convulsively around you, your fingers suddenly crush mine.

 

We won't move away for a long time, I think - whatever, or whoever, happens. I feel warm inside and out, comfortable. You have never been so relaxed against me. I know it in my mind. You give me a tissue, and I wipe our mess with as little movement as possible. Your frals flail as they try to accomplish their mission – I smile as I think they might have to wait for quite some time before finding a Vulcan vagina. You share in my amusement. I kiss your nape and wrap my arms around you. You turn and do the same.

 

Come what may - we're not afraid of us anymore.


End file.
